


Hiding from Eternity

by piq_snine



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Bilbo stop doing that to him, Bilbo's a criminal mastermind, Bilbo's a grump, Durincest, Eternity, Fingering, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Multiple Pairings, Oral, Power Bottom, Scars, Thorin's a teacher, other tags to follow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:51:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2120883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piq_snine/pseuds/piq_snine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin Oakenshield is one of the schools favorite teachers. Outgoing, energetic and at times childish he gains the confidence of his students. In his personal life he's lived uncountable amount of ages along with his nephews Fili and Kili. Having to move from job to job after a few decades it get's pretty lonely. So when one relationship had ended Thorin jumps to the next one in order to stave off old memories and soul crushing loneliness. But what is it about Professor Baggins, the new History teacher, that's got him unable to seal the deal?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hot for Teacher

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from. This isn't meant to be overly fluffy or comical.

Thorin had, embarrassingly enough, read those romance novels where the main character of the story gets granted an eternity (for one reason or another) and suffers all through the ages angry and alone and searching for something else to bring even a blotch of color into his forever grey world. Then, when he met this wonderful woman he had wanted her with such passion and fervor that it was unbearable, but he wouldn’t dare touch her, to taint her with all the muck he’d gathered throughout the ages. And in one such case, turns into a stalker while she slept; that particular novel he wished he’d never opened. But it was for the sake of the children. They had wanted to make the novel part of their curriculum and he’d given in all too easily.

 

The fact is Thorin Oakenshield was eternally exhausted of all the misused imaginings of the thought of eternity. When one doesn’t have to worry about an end, the paradox is: Would one go insane or would they be freed? In Thorin’s case, it was a bit of both but mostly the feeling of freedom. He struggles, much like others, to make a living, to ensure that he has enough for his rent and utilities, no longer hunting and foraging for food and the constant stress of ‘not enough’ had waned and then blossomed into ‘I have too much’. Thorin Oakenshield once thought that forever would end one day, that he’d age somehow (more grey hairs, rotted teeth, withered features), but that wasn’t so. He’d remained the same age, not a wrinkle more (to his ever disdain), and the only changes on him were the scars gathered throughout the years. But with modern medicine all he needed to do was rub enough ointment onto it for a course of twenty or so years and the fresher scars would disappear almost entirely only leaving a ghostly spread of slightly-tighter skin behind. He imagined that’s what the earth looked like after humans died and civilizations had rotted down to sand and rubble; a scar unseen by modern society.

 

Freedom hadn’t come without a price, of course. Not only did almost everyone he’d ever known die off at a good age, or too early because life was horribly, and almost emphatically cruel, but he was left with a dread that life was better this way. Him going on carrying a legacy or two to fruition then surreptitiously passing it on to another for them to claim and take credit on. Thorin was Fate, in that sense. He’d seen enough of wars that he was able to give direction to a phalanx, or to the industrialization of a steam engine just to make his travels faster, or, even, his simple part in introducing social media into the education system. Most of the industry was mankind’s productivity and need for simpler things made simple, but others needed a little push from someone who’d pondered about making things faster, simpler, better for over – well, Thorin hated reminding himself how old he really was.

 

But currently, with his classroom getting out of order, a crescendo of cacophony before forced instinctual institutionalization kicked in as soon as that bell rung. For now, Thorin was content to lean back in his chair, catching up on the student’s chosen novel for the semester. Once or twice a year Professor Oakenshield would allow the student’s to choose the novel and make up the questions for the quiz. Independent and team building was incorporated and expected in the assignments, also, because this was an English course for crying out loud, why shouldn’t the student’s learn how to properly cite, write, and build quotes, questions and prompts. It was one thing to see how it’s done, another completely to know it all together. The trick was, if you were doing a team-quiz the questions had to be entered individually, with the answer key provided and page number and proper citation. It was the same philosophy, in general terms, to his existence. Create and share your own view, a no-limits world with structure rather than chaos, but follow the rules otherwise.

 

Professor Oakenshield licked his finger lightly, and gently separated the pages of his novel and advanced to the next paragraph. He used all of his tenderness as he would have a papyrus sheaf with wet hieroglyphs printed on it. It was a learned trait, almost impossible to be rid of. When the bell rang he took a moment or two to finish the paragraph, looked up to the student’s running late, then bookmarked his place with a bit of blood red braided string with a lump of raw gold. Not that anyone knew what an actual nugget looked like. But it was special because of its value to him, not the stock market. To other’s it was a small stone painted gold or purchased at a corner bookstore with no windows and tons of old books and the dry but musty smell of books who’ve lasted longer than most humans.

 

“To those of you arriving barely on time,” Thorin noted a few students shuffling in through the threshold after the bell finished echoing down the hall. This secondary school was small enough not to have a need for a Swipe Card so attendance was taken by ledgers at the beginning of each lesson. “I don’t think I’ve seen three students fit through that door as well as you did, good job. And for the rest of you, tardy, unless you got a good excuse.”

 

“My locker was jammed because of all the books.” One student replied, shyly.

 

“Well I know that’s a lie, you can’t read unless it’s in crayon.” Thorin smiled, the back and forth an actual game in the wee mornings of public high school.

 

“I didn’t say they had words on them.” The student smarted back.

 

“I don’t need to know which car is the pinup of the month, Travis, thanks.” Thorin snorted picking up his Thermos cup with a dirty Starbuck’s sleeve on it, taking a cautious sip.

 

“I had to help an old lady cross the parking lot.” Another late student quipped.

 

“Mrs. Easter isn’t just some old lady, she is a gem.” Thorin pointed out. “And deserves more love.”

 

“Even if she makes homemade blinders out of folders and duct tape during quizzes?”

 

“Especially so, since she’s got the balls to do it.” Thorin looked to the last one.

 

“I-erm,” The student dug behind her. “Got you this.”

 

A hot and fresh bridie had Thorin’s mouth watering, he was an absolute slut for those things. “I don’t think my doctor would be very proud of me if I gave in to this sinnery.”

 

Professor Thorin kept his mug of coffee in front of him as if it were a cross to ward off the devil and he were the young priest during his first exorcism.

 

“It’s got rosemary.” The girl tempted, cries of ‘No fair’ and ‘That’s cheating’ chorused through the small cinderblock room. Thorin acted as if he were resisting the king’s ransom, or as if he were a monk denying himself another drink of his crafted wine.

 

“Oh, alright, you’ve got me.” Thorin put his coffee down and took the hot meal and opened it to cool for quicker consumption, burning his fingers in the process. The student’s laughed at him as he licked cheese off his palm. “Alright, none of you are tardy. I don’t even know why I bother to mark a T at this point in my career. No one’s actually ever been late in my class. By the way, every teacher here is wondering how I get you all to behave. They want to know my secrets. Unfortunately the patent is pending and I can’t say anything.

 

“Now, on to important things such as teen romance novels; by the way, what is this drivel? I don’t think my senses have ever been so affronted. I mean, a 400 year old stalker? She must have Stockholm Syndrome.”

 

“How dare you!” A female student cried out, and thus, was the beginning of this block’s lesson.

 

The rest of the day was pretty much the same. Late student’s pleading for their attendance, stories and bribes (but he resisted the double fudge brownie-muffin thing that came from a student). At lunch Thorin enjoyed his cobb salad, especially the little yellow baby corn, and a quick phone call from both of his nephews. Then his afternoon ‘study hall’ that turned into reading more of that accursed novel and another one from one of the advanced classes (they have their student quiz this afternoon, got to find out what happens to the main character in Sherman Alexie’s The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian), checking his emails, then shooting off a text to his partner to confirm dinner for tonight. And by the time the bell rang for his next class Thorin sighed, stacked up his papers he meant to grade, capped his dried-out red pen, and book marked his other books before accepting a wave of S1 know-it-alls.

 

Thorin was watching the student’s counting them out loud in a Middle-Eastern language he’d picked up in the 50’s, when a shorter man with curly honey hair and vibrant green-blue eyes went walking by with a red corduroy jacket and gold and forest green silk scarf tied closely to his throat. Golden stubble and an exhausted slightly defeated look haunted him. Thorin was absolutely transfixed by the man’s sudden appearance that he left the classroom and followed the man down the hall with his eyes. Thorin felt a stirring in his bones, his muscles twitching and yelling at him to move just as they had when Pompeii was already smoldering and on its way to burying him just like the rest. It was a desperate need, just like his needless bid for survival, and he needed to follow the man and know absolutely everything about him.

 

The bell finished ringing, the fourth period bell inexplicably always let out a last dying breath of a few chirps before stopping completely. Thorin would usually time it just right to do something as unexpected as throwing a pencil into the tiled ceiling just as it hiccupped, the thunk of a pencil in fiber plaster muted by the loud tinkling of the iron bell. But this time, he twitched, realizing that he was staring into the man’s eyes as he’d turned, looked down the hall, down to the front doors of freedom but had found Thorin’s blue eyes instead. Startled, the shorter man, mouth set in a firm straight line with slight dimples hiding what may have been boyish mirth at one time, and marched into another classroom as if he were a convicted felon frog-hopping to his 2,500 volt death. But all Thorin saw was how soft the man’s skin looked, how well kept he appeared and the way he held himself as if he were entertaining the Queen. Thorin’s mouth dried and he realized that he was late to his own class.

 

Later that night, after another cancelled dinner with his partner, Thorin lay in bed, a modest queen with bargain priced sheets and flat pillows, thinking about that man from earlier. He hadn’t found out a name yet. A minor scuffle outside of his classroom with two girls fighting over the same guy, a few or hundred papers to grade and update on his computer, and the afterschool courses for higher learning, a date with the man he thought he could wait one more minute for at the table before leaving and picking up leftovers from his nephews’ place, all of it culminating into a very stressful day. But remembering that man’s look that haunted ‘I’ve had it’ look made Thorin want to hold him and make everything better. No one had a reason to look that dour. Without a name, Thorin imagined that the man was actually a fun guy to be around, that perhaps his car had gave one last sputter of devotion before dying at the curb in front of the school, or maybe he’d just gotten word that his pet goldfish of ten years had finally taken his final ride down the River Styx via toilet bowl. Either way, Thorin was determined to find out more about his new (even if temporary) associate.

 

At about three o’clock in the morning Thorin was woken up to his partner jostling around on the bed, smelling of booze, high priced vodka that went along with the Old Country’s traditions of sealing a deal. His partner shed his clothing, turned over on his side and cuddled next to Thorin. And it was days/nights like this that made Thorin wonder if he’d ever get any closer to another human being than settling for a man or woman he can stand leaving after a few months or years of dating. Purposely picking those who had low standards or weren’t as driven as him just so he had a legitimate reason for breaking off a relationship he couldn’t afford to have for too long. But tonight, he enjoyed the feeling of another human in bed with him, pretending that it was just another short day in his short life to where arguments were common and meaningless in its existence. Just like his partners.

 

The next morning Thorin woke to the smell of bacon and eggs frying together in a skillet he’s had since the 20’s and a fresh pot of coffee. A quick turn in bed revealed that it was his partner cooking, again, before heading out to work. His partner, Max, had rescheduled his day so that they could spend a few more minutes in the morning before his busy timetable kept him away their bed most nights. Thorin liked that, like he was a special person in Max’s life that meant something to someone enough to constantly shift his morning meetings just to have a longer kiss bye in the morning.

 

“Good Morning, sleepy head.” Max said from the propane stove flipping eggs cautiously aware of their golden treasure bursting randomly. “I made toast too, thought I’d save you from those Hot Pockets you love.”

 

Thorin walked up behind his partner and wrapped his arms around his torso under the apron to keep from splatters of grease burning his skin. “Morning,” Thorin smiled, kissed the back of Max’s neck. “How did the meeting go?”

 

“Thorin, I’m sorry about dinner last night.” Max said, wriggling back into Thorin’s embrace.

 

“I know how busy you are Max,” Thorin gave another squeeze around Max’s hips before moving to the coffee pot, pouring the heavenly liquid into his battered Thermos, Starbucks sleeve a proud badge. “You don’t have to apologize. Besides,” Thorin took out plates and forks for them to use, “I ate at Fíli and Kíli’s. They had Chicken in the Heather.”

 

“Mmm,” Max hummed, “I love Fíli’s food. He always makes the best.” Max served them up and joined Thorin at the table. “By the way, I’ve got something I want to ask you.”

 

Thorin buttered his toast and took a bite before muffling out an answer. “What’s that?”

 

“Thorin, honey, look at me.” Max reached out and grabbed Thorin’s hand, clutching it between his, class ring sitting like a gaudy bauble. “I want to know, if I can abscond you away from here. Take you away and settle down somewhere nice. Perhaps get a nice place in an artsy district where Chinese restaurants clog the air and the studio apartment overlooks the bay. What do you say?”

 

Thorin put his toast down, wondering how he’d missed this. Max had been working harder and later this past year, using less and less of the obscene amount of money he earned, gifting Thorin with rings, a car, history books, and toys not mentioned outside of the bedroom. It was something that Thorin had apparently been getting lax on. Thorin looked into Max’s eyes, sighing heavily before Max started again.

 

“You don’t have to answer now, if you don’t want to. But I just wanted you to know that I’m trying really hard to make things right. My kids are finally talking to me, thanks to you, Molly loves you, and you’ve made me think of my future more earnestly than I had with my own wife. And – well, I want a future with you. I want to see what you become; I want to see what I become because of you. I want to grow old with you, and take care of you when we retire.

 

“Thorin, I want you to move with me. They’re sending me to San Diego, I’m getting a promotion! And I want to take you with me.”

 

Thorin sat there, regret and loss already building in his chest. How could have he gotten so lazy? He was usually good at heading off this part of the temporary relationships. Perhaps he should start going into a contract like that kinky millionaire from that series Max loves. But the next few words that Thorin has with Max is one that Thorin has practiced throughout the ages.

“I’m sorry” and “I don’t think I can commit to an eternity like that” which was true, who wanted to fall in love to only have your lover wither and die or hate you because of your own immortality. Some of the other phrases he’d used were “You can do better than me,” and “I want you to live happily with someone you will love with all your heart, not an old man who will leave you behind alone one day.” And that last bit usually comes true by the end of the discussion.

 

Max was hurt, but Thorin hurt worse. It was never easy, as easy as he’d wish it to be. Max cried, told Thorin to stop it, that they loved each other, and Thorin knew it. By the end, just before Max had to leave for work, Thorin had been able to convince his partner that it was for the best. That he wouldn’t leave Max, that he does care for him and will see him off when Max did leave for San Diego.

 

By lunchtime, Max was moved out; all of his belongings were put into storage while he moved in with his brother down the street. Thorin had gotten a picture of the apartment key sitting on the breakfast counter with the text reading ‘I thought I could last till the end. Turns out I can’t. Love you. Good bye.’

 

Thorin was more angry than sad. He flipped his mobile shut and attempted to finish his arugula and spinach salad with dried cranberries. A paper bag slapping onto the faculty table with a resigned sigh interrupted Thorin’s stormy thoughts.

 

“Making up for all the junk food you take as bribes?” The honey haired teacher was sitting across from Thorin looking slightly more stable than yesterday. There was a slight pallor to the man indicating that he was recently sick. Perhaps that’s why he had looked the way he did yesterday.

 

“Something like that. I guess it’s working; my doctor says I’m as healthy as an ox.” Thorin sat up and put his flip mobile away and reaching out his hand to shake the other teachers. “Professor Thorin Oakenshield, I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

 

“We haven’t met formally, no. But I suppose even the singular even of your stalking does count as ‘seeing’ one another.” The shorter man replied almost acidly, “Professor Bilbo Baggins. I teach History.”

 

“So you’re taking over for Therrie.” Thorin said around his salad. He was much too hungry to observe the finer points of proper eating habits. He stabbed a piece of feta before eating it. “I was wondering who they’d get to relieve that poor girl from the University.”

 

“Yes, well, I assure you that I had no compunction to take over on anything.” Professor Baggins unwrapped the parchment around his sandwich and took a healthy bite, content to forgetting that he was talking to anyone just now.

 

Thorin watched him eat, unaware that he was drawing stares himself as he observed the man across from him. Bilbo was dressed in a blue overcoat with a gold vest and turquoise blue scarf, his stone washed jeans and artfully tarnished brown leather shoes made the Professor look like an Old World hipster. Perhaps he was setting a new standard for the youth who thought they were unique in their choice of clothing. The Professors made his grilled Panini look delicious.

 

“Where were you before this?” Thorin asked as he sealed the plastic lid on his finished meal. He looked around his travel sized cooler for his lemon pie Kíli packed him.

 

“You mean besides my classroom grading papers?” Bilbo looked up from his sandwich, he seemed like he really didn’t want to answer the same questioned posed to him over and over again.

 

“No, before falling to earth. Was it a spaceship or heaven?” Thorin unsealed the pie and cleaned off his spork from salad bits before digging in. “Certain new religions would like to know which is real. Heaven or Aliens. Currently I’m on the bid for aliens as I’ve already met you.”

 

Bilbo Baggins was practically glaring through his incredibly low eyebrows, his hands twitched as if he were getting ready to punch Thorin. Meanwhile Professor Oakenshield smiled around his sporkfull of pie and waited for the answer.

 

“Are you saying I’m an alien?” Bilbo ground out, though his English accent made it sound like a polite query to the count of threads in the sheets.

 

“I’m saying, that you’re very – ah – serene while eating your homemade Panini. I wouldn’t go so far as calling you an angel, that would be too cliché.” Thorin smiled. “But you do look like one.”

 

As an answer Bilbo wrapped up his sandwich and shoved it into his paper bag before picking up his leather messenger and marching out of the busy faculty room. Thorin smiled to himself, glad that he could blow off some steam by annoying another person. Before he was done with his pie, however, Professor Baggins slapped down an evangelical periodical proclaiming ‘Are Heaven and Aliens Real?’ Thorin had to laugh as Bilbo made his cheeky exit again.

 

Their brief interaction only made Thorin want to know the other man even more. He sat in the obscenely loud swivel chair that could no longer gather enough momentum for a two inch rolling across the industrial linoleum floor before bucking the rider out of the seat. Thorin had learned early in this career not to attempt to go wheeling down the hall to the teachers’ canteen in order to get more coffee. That if he’d tried that again he’d end up face first on the floor looking up at the gum riddled underside of student’s desks. Instead, he tapped out a tempo on the floor, leather soles competing against the rhythmic sound of the chair. Thorin was uncomfortably attuned with the chair that he could write music with it. He was chewing on a pencil, eyes glued to the screen as he posted the chapter notes from the student’s novel. The participation of the forum was how he actually graded them, not the student quiz. Thorin was so distracted by his music making and grade posting that he failed to notice the history teacher walking up behind him.

 

Two hands gripped the tattered faux leather seat and rocked the English Professor into a deadly recline. Thorin had to react quicker than his reflex of attacking an enemy and force out a yelp of surprise. He disguised his motion to grab at a sword no longer hanging at his hips for the armrests of the equally ancient chair.

 

“Would. You. Please. Stop. That.” Professor Baggins asked politely through his shark’s smile. “I can hear you all the way down the hall with your ADHD.”

 

“I apologize, Sire.” Thorin choked out around his pencil. The mangled bit of wood and graphite gripped tightly between his teeth. “I didn’t realize it was that loud.”

 

“It’s loud enough to set my nerves on edge.” Bilbo let Thorin sit back up. He straightened himself up and fixed his vest over the pale blue button up with white cuff and no cufflinks. Thorin somehow found it attractive. Bilbo had Thorin exclusively in his sights and the English Professor wondered when Bilbo would notice. He swung himself around in his squeaky chair and waited for the dawn of realization. “What are you doing, by the way? And would you please oil that thing?”

 

“That’s why we have headphones, sir.” A student called out.

 

Bilbo Baggins looked around the room, a jumping of eyes as he counted how many students were actually in the classroom.

 

“It’s quiz time. I let the student’s listen to their headphones to drown out this noise.” Thorin gave another rock of the chair as an example. “Oi, noses down.” He addressed the curious students. “You’ve only got twelve more minutes.”

 

“You let them quiz like that?” Bilbo pointed to the one student who spoke up, his headphones blaring some jrock, the lyrics lost to the muffling of the expensive set. “They could have the answers pre-recorded on there. Or they could look it up on their devices.”

 

“You act as if they’re intelligent.” Thorin pulled himself up to his feet. He had to brush his long hair back and off of his shoulders before looking down and into Bilbo’s eyes. It was as if he were challenging the man. “I operate on a trust system. They respect me and the rest of the class because of it. I don’t see why I shouldn’t allow them to use their headphones. I know when they’re cheating anyways.”

 

Thorin picked up the papers he’d dropped from off the floor and stacked them in a less than neat pile on his desk. His laptop giving a mooing sound as the fan turned on.

 

“But,” Bilbo began but stopped, “Argh, it’s no use fighting with you. You’ll only think you’ve won, in the end.”

 

“So prove to me I’m wrong.” Thorin outright challenged, not worried that he could be turned in for harassment or fraternizing at work, it was pretty close to Moving Day to earn himself a relief from his duties.

 

“There’s no need to do that.” Bilbo huffed and crossed his arms, in his anger, his cheeks blushed a pretty color that made Thorin want to pinch them. He remembered a time when the young men of Greece would attempt to get his attention with such painful attempts. “I don’t appreciate the tease.”

 

Thorin lifted an eyebrow, a crooked smirk playing at his lips.

 

“I mean, not that you’re a tease. You’re more like a bully, maybe. Or perhaps not. But you operate as if you’re the Alpha around here and it’s actually a bit annoying.” Bilbo began to carry on. But Thorin loved to hear the man stumble on his words. He got an unusual high from making the other man fluster. He especially liked the way he blushed.

 

“Are you free for dinner?” Bilbo surprised himself with the invitation. Thorin much more so. “Ah, nevermind. Sorry. No. Don’t answer. I don’t want to know. Erm, yes. Bye.”

 

And Bilbo Baggins wandered out of Thorin’s classroom all the more bothered that there had been a student standing behind him with his headphones off, smiling as if he were a cat that swallowed the canary, then promptly choked on it as Bilbo sent a deadly glare in the boy’s direction. Bilbo stomped out of the classroom and down the hall, and Thorin had to keep from laughing as there was a squeak of shoes and Bilbo marched back the other way towards his own classroom.

 

“If you don’t tell him yes, Professor, I’ll tell him to pick you up at eight.” The boy was cheeky, but Thorin had to agree with him.

 

“Don’t you dare look at the answer key sitting on my desk. I’ll flunk you if you’ve passed it.” Thorin grinned and ran out of the hall.

 

Bilbo Baggins was sitting in front of his attendance ledger, looking for the student that had been behind him in Oakenshield’s classroom. He had half a mind to mark him as tardy for three days in a row just to give him afterschool suspension. And really, the child could use it according to his grades.

 

“What was that man thinking?” Bilbo muttered to himself as he erased the ‘T’ on the ledger and marked it back to a check mark that indicated the student’s presence. Bilbo was mentally going through a checklist of why he shouldn’t have invited the other man to dinner.

 

Professor Oakenshield was just another teacher with tenure who didn’t care about the system or the actual grades of the students. He was goofy, sarcastic, and didn’t take anything seriously. And although he was dressed smartly in a suit and tie from the previous decade, he was prim looking with the tailored suit and expensive looking shoes. The silver watch he wore didn’t work, the sleeves of his button up shirt were pushed up as if he didn’t care about the designer label (no matter how many seasons it was out of style), and that man’s hair was- well, it was kept clean and neat in a ponytail. The silver hairs at his temple hadn’t reached the tips, making it look like he’d spent money to look naturally old. And the way the man’s eyes crinkled made Bilbo boil with lust. He used to enjoy a man who was easy with his smiles.

 

But this man, this Professor was aggravatingly handsome. His height and length of limbs stirred Bilbo’s curiosity and desire, and Thorin’s broad chest sent chills knowing that the suit jacket he wore fit him so well he couldn’t decide if he liked the jacket on or off. And perhaps, for the matter that he looked so athletic and built, Bilbo couldn’t decide if he like the clothes on or off entirely. Bilbo blushed and hid his face in his hands as he wrestled with the conundrum of finding such a handsome and attractive man as a co-worker who was unofficially off limits.

 

“Professor Baggins?” The same aggravating Professor had stuck his head into Bilbo’s classroom. Bilbo could see the strain of muscles in Thorin’s forearms, hair dusting and deepening the tan of his skin. Bilbo blushed a deeper shade of red as he realized that Thorin knew exactly the kind of image he struck. As if he’d been practicing this one stance all his life. “I’m free right after the Drama Club is over. We can head over to Owens Bar in Coatbridge for a bite. Say, 7:30? I’ll see you there.”

 

Thorin left with a click of his tongue and not waiting for Bilbo’s reply. Being next door to the English Professor he could hear the student’s give shouts of ‘Ooohhh!’ as he walked back into his room. It was as if the students were congratulating another peer at scoring a date with the upperclassman. That made Bilbo even madder as he took his stack of papers needing graded and began mumbling about immature men and how could he allow himself to be manipulated like that.

 

 

 

The Owens Bar appeared to be a decent place just off of Main Street. Airdrie was good enough place to find good food, but Owens' was a twist of modern and rustic cottage with antler chandeliers and old wooden chairs. There was a beer garden outback that appealed to the younger crowd and around the bar there were the older patrons. Bilbo instantly approved of the setting. It was quaint, slightly energetic but relaxed enough you don't feel like you need to drink a lot and get crazy.

 

Bilbo looked down the long narrow bar with servers buzzing around in a chaotic order to search out his dining partner. And there was Thorin, sitting with two younger men watching a football match on the telly. The two men, college aged and drinking some sort of dark spirits had their heads bent towards Thorin as if they were conspiring against the bartender to overtake his establishment as if they were rogue pirates rather than sensible human beings. It was the first time Thorin had looked serious. But Bilbo hadn’t been able to interact with the other man as often as he probably should have considering that he’d asked Thorin out on a date, no, dinner, before actually getting to know him.

 

Thorin didn’t notice Bilbo standing somewhat awkwardly at the bar, waiting for his drink order and allowing the three men time to visit. The younger two were obviously family, the dark haired one shared the color of Thorin’s hair and set of eyebrows, the blond one had his eye color and annoying smirk of lips, though the younger had deeper dimples than Thorin. They were both handsome boys and Bilbo wondered if they were Thorin’s sons or distant relations. There was a roar from the bar crowd as someone made a goal, the thumping of glasses and fists reminiscent of his home country. Three sets of eyes looked up at the screen but one pair lost its way when they collided with Bilbo’s eyes. He didn’t realize he’d been so intently watching Thorin’s play of eyebrows as his emotions fluxed while he talked. Thorin smiled then got the younger boys’ attentions before calling out to Bilbo.

 

“Professor! Welcome,” Thorin invited the smaller man to sit with him, the boys sliding out of the bench seat and up to the bar in the dark corner with other drunken patrons. “You see why I like this place?”

 

Although Bilbo didn’t think that Thorin was from Europe, or any discernable place with his accent, he did appreciate that it was agreeable to Bilbo's tastes. 

 

“Yes, quite inviting.” Bilbo replied mildly. He looked around to see if there were any blatant health code violations but was distracted by Thorin himself.

 

The rowdy English Professor was dressed casually in a black leather jacket that usually went with a sporty motocycle, a faded Henley peered from underneath that brightened Thorin’s eyes, and his tight dark wash jeans with six buckle racing boots to kick off his bad-boy look. Thorin was the badass, old man version of Peter Pan.

 

“You look very-“

 

“If you say inviting I should throw my drink on you and leave immediately.” Bilbo threatened pulling his drink closer to him in a promise. “I don’t need seedy bar romance to be wooed.”

 

“That’s assuming that I can’t woo you with seedy bar romance.” Thorin smiled and took a drink from his tumbler. It was dark and oaky liquid, probably one of the whiskeys on the Lazy Susan in the see through cooler. It smelled as good as any expensive cologne on the man.

 

“That’s assuming.” Bilbo agreed. For some reason he was able to loosen up more with Thorin here in the mockup of a pub than he could at the school. Perhaps it had something to do with Thorin not having to pretend to be the mature adult in his leathers than in his suit. But he did look fine in his suit, if it were from the same decade as today or recycled with intent from a previous life than teaching.

 

Bilbo could see that Thorin was fitter than his suit let on. He could see his arms bulging in temptation underneath the leather that boasted a popular bike name across the front and his pectorals jumped with every twitch of wrists when Thorin bounced the quarter in his hands.

 

“Can you not keep still for one second?” Bilbo pointed to the quarter.

 

“Usually people don’t tell me to stop.” Thorin winked with the last swig of his whiskey. He nodded to the bartender and picked up a one sided menu, the laminated page advertising tonight’s special and what else it has emerging from the deep fryer.

 

“Is there anything else than fish and chips?” Bilbo asked distractedly. The blush was a dead giveaway to Thorin though.

 

“There is steak, and their Mac N’Chz is really good.” Thorin wasn’t looking at the menu anymore and Bilbo could feel his heated gaze raking over him. Bilbo was still in his work attire, not willing to let Thorin into his private life just yet.

 

“Let me guess, you’re either going for something incredibly fattening and possibly artery clogging or something extremely healthy.” Bilbo saw Thorin nod non-committedly and sighed. “Figures.”

 

Bilbo was really looking at the Mac N’Chz, it came with a side order of whatever protein you wanted and a side salad. Mind made up Bilbo put the menu down and studied Thorin, the man hadn’t stopped looking at him.

 

“What!” Bilbo was only slightly annoyed with the man now. Thorin’s eyes focused and Bilbo realized that Thorin wasn’t actually watching him. Turning around he noticed that there was a television set behind him broadcasting the match.

 

“Thought I was one of those creepers didn’t ya?” Thorin’s deep timbre chuckled at him. “I’m sorry, I should be paying attention to you but my nephew’s and I have a bet going on right now. Gotta fix my car so I can stop driving my bike everywhere.”

 

Thorin sat straighter and smiled at Bilbo’s embarrassment. “So where did you really come from?”

 

“Yorkshire,” Bilbo answered with a breath of air. The man made him tense and felt like he should be on his toes, but he also settled something deep inside of him, a quench when he didn’t know that he was thirsty. “I studied in Oxford before moving there with family. This is my first actual teaching position anywhere. I did mostly home education for a family in Paris. Before that I was working at a grocer’s selling veg.”

 

“A grocer, huh?” Thorin didn’t laugh or mock. “Before this I was at Wall Street in America. Nothing important, but I did get checks out on time. I enjoyed it, getting to meet new people and seeing the ins and outs of the nation’s financial backbone. Before that I was raising those two knuckle heads through uni, during that time I did the odd gig and show, bass guitar.”

 

“You must have been there a long time then.” Bilbo inferred. The waitress finally appeared to take their orders and brought Thorin a glass of water and another tumbler of whiskey, Bilbo another tequila sunrise. “Don’t make fun of my drink. I happen to like grenadine and pineapple.”

 

“Did you hear me laugh?”

 

“I could hear your internal monologue practically burning at not being able to say something.” Bilbo pointed at Thorin threateningly.

 

“As for working at Wall Street, no, I was only there for six years. Which is a lot shorter considering I’ve been teaching for ten. I was what the American’s call and Old Fart when I went to school for my education degree. I initially wanted to be a ballerina but I twisted my ankle.” Thorin winked and took a long pull of water.

 

“Well, I thought that you have great physique for such a hobby.” Bilbo smiled, finally allowing himself to loosen up.

 

The next few hours were full of non-invading personal questions. Where each man tiptoed around the others obvious desires. Thorin tried his best to get Bilbo to smile and Bilbo tried to get the other man to have a serious conversation. By the end of the match Thorin’s nephews paid up and bid the two goodnight and a saucy wink to Thorin. Little did the English Professor know how Bilbo had taken that as a personal challenge.

 

“Well, I think it’s time to turn in. It is a school night after all.” Bilbo stood and footed for the bill, after all he was the one to ask for a date. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Professor.”

 

“No nightcap? My house isn’t too far. I could give you a lift on my motorcycle. I promise to keep it under the speed limit.” Thorin wagged his eyebrows. “I’ll be a gentleman, I promise.”

 

“You’ll be a gentleman nonetheless by letting me on my way.” Bilbo led Thorin to the front of the pub and shivered against the early autumn air. “I wouldn’t mind surrendering a kiss, if you’re amenable.”

 

“You sound like those Wall Street bookies.” Thorin stepped closer, the heat from the taller man giving Bilbo the shivers. Bilbo had to crane his neck to look into Thorin’s eyes. “Is it up for bartering?”

 

“Yes. You either get one or will have to wait till tomorrows date.” Bilbo said lowly, acutely aware of the attention they were attracting. He’d never been secretive about his sexuality but he was still new to the community and wasn’t sure how welcoming they were with gays. But Thorin didn’t seem to mind and that itself lent Bilbo courage. “8:00 this time. I have to chaperone a club and would like to pick the venue this time.”

 

“Ooo, pep club. You had better bring your usual fun self, otherwise they’ll lynch ya.” Thorin took ahold of Bilbo’s chin. “And I’ll take that kiss now.”

 

Thorin leaned in and practically devoured Bilbo on the street. Bilbo’s body ignited with passion and he clutched onto Thorin’s leathers tightly and pulled him closer. Bilbo had to tiptoe to reach Thorin’s lips but he didn’t mind it. He’d liked the tall ones anyways. When they pulled apart Bilbo was proud that he’d pulled out Thorin’s decidedly Scottish accent.

 

“Aye, you sure I can’t tempt ya to join me at my place?” Thorin reached around and pulled Bilbo up to him by the small of his back stroking the corduroy. “Or I could take the lilo at your place.”

 

“Are you pushing yourself onto me, Thorin Oakenshield?” Bilbo demanded but was distracted by Thorin’s licking tongue.

 

“I don’t like to be alone.” Thorin pleaded, reigning in his accent again making his origins murky once again. It was such a heavy and loaded statement that Bilbo couldn’t decide if he was still being wooed or if Thorin was telling the truth.

 

“I’m sorry. But like the students say, I don’t put out on the first date.” Bilbo slightly pushed Thorin away but stared at his lips the whole time. “Maybe you’ll get lucky tomorrow, hey?”

 

Thorin nodded his head and dived in for another kiss. It wasn’t demanding or pleading, just a heated kiss portraying his desire for Bilbo. “I’ll see you tomorrow at 7:45 then.”

 

“Tomorrow, then.” Bilbo bid his curt goodbye, pulling himself away before he could get swept away by Thorin’s energy. The man was boundless with it and could channel it from boyish enthusiasm to intent focus to sexual desire. Bilbo more than half wondered how energetic the man would be in bed.

 

Thorin watched Bilbo go with a heavy heart and an intense feeling of loneliness. He hated this part of eternity with a passion. He was usually better than this at ringing in his next partner before sadness crept in. It had been so easy to forget that he was eons older than the History Professor and was able to just be himself. It was a rarity and he wanted it back. But Bilbo had drawn a line and Thorin was keeping to it.

 

Instead of going back to the empty and cold apartment Thorin headed upstairs above Owens and knocked on a door. When it opened he was already crying from the crushing weight of hurt that Fíli and Kíli instantly had him in a hug. His nephews opened up their bed to him as they held onto the only things they were guaranteed to in this life. Each other.


	2. Tempered Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin barely makes it to seeing Bilbo again. And after their date things get a little heated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sex yet. Sorry.

“Do you think we should wake him?”

 

“No, let him sleep. We can get breakfast started.”

 

“He looks so peaceful with his puffy eyes.”

 

“You’re horrible, Kili, the man just cried himself to sleep last night.”

 

“You’da thought Professor Boggins-“

 

“Baggins,”

 

“Could cheer him up.”

 

“He wouldn’t let me take him home.” Thorin mumbled, squeezing his eyes against the stinging pain. Crying just before falling asleep was the worst right next to not having a partner to drown out the voices of his past.

 

“You coulda had him, Unc.” Kili replied, slapping his boxer clad ass before leaving the bedside.

 

“Tell Nightingale that I want toast and eggs.” Thorin tried rolling up and out of bed but only managed to get a pillow across his head to drown out sound and light.

 

“I’ll get you some cold spoons and Ibuprofen. Kee wants you to try his new hash.” Fili called gently before kissing his uncle on the forehead.

 

“Fine. I’ll be out in a bit.”

 

Over the course of their lifetime the boys had found themselves inviting each other into their beds. Pulling double dates, then the more wild threesomes and after that they’d ‘accidentally’ began fucking each other. Thorin hadn’t blamed them, or even really cared at that point, there was never really a taboo in their era about taking a family member to bed. But the time that the boys had finally become friendlier with another and practically jumping into their beds together was Babylon and really, anything went there. After that, the fall of such a great city and the travel to another great civilization begun to dwindle down to ‘not supposed to’ and ‘isn’t sanctioned’. So the boys kept it secret as human’s progressed, but their attempts at getting their uncle in their bed hadn't ceased and they failed at every turn whenever there was actual sex involved.

 

Thorin had no problems kissing them, their tongues were wicked and tempting but he’d never actually been stirred to lay with them and get tangled in the sheets. Oh they were fun to watch, but the longing to have a partner to call his own was louder than sharing himself and his attentions with his nephews. Max was the only recent partner who was into watching the boys too, it was debauched times whenever Max was free on the weekend and they all got drunk and fucked on the couches and coffee tables like the harem’s of old. And Thorin loved the challenge of reigning in Max's singular attention when the boys moaned and screamed like cheap whores.

 

But this morning Thorin wasn’t actually concerned with Max or his certainly fuckable nephews, no, his thoughts turned to a certain honey haired and barbed tongue professor. It wasn’t all the time that Thorin was able to seduce a partner the first date, or even the first day after the last partner for that matter. It wasn’t the sex that drove Thorin to seduce and keep partners around, it was the physical contact of the human next to him and their attention. And when there were emotions involved, say desire or lust or even anger the contact somehow and inexplicably charged him. As if he were the immortal Duracell bunny. When the attention was solely his, he could get what he needed and didn't need to worry about his past or the Sleep.

 

The realization that today was going to be Hell, capital H right there, was almost too much. But if he could just get close enough to the Professor today and woo him some more, he may end up having at least a cuddling partner. Bilbo looked like he was great at cuddling.

 

Thorin rolled precariously out of the high set bed, the boys put their mattress on cinderblocks to make room for storage underneath, and that was where he found his extra clothing. There was a suit at the cleaners that he could pick up on the way to work, so he just threw his jeans and Henley on from last night.

 

The hallway creaked with age as he made his way to the kitchen, the flat was small, smaller than most that Thorin and the boys have been in this century, but that didn’t bother either of them. They made the most of what they had, they always have. Kili was at the stove with a spatula stirring some potatoes as he bobbed his head in time with Fili’s humming, a Mongolian tune.

 

“I haven’t heard that song for a few months. Something on your mind, Fili?” Thorin asked around a yawn. He accepted the iced spoons from his nephew and placed them on his eyelids trying to reduce the swelling. Blast immortality, Thorin could really go for quick regeneration. But with their bodies unable to quickly reproduce cells to replace dead, old, or defunct ones, the trio felt more human this way and were thankful for it. It kept them from doing something drastic, like jumping off of Big Ben without a parachute or going out with steaks tied to their bodies while swimming with sharks.

 

“Just thinking about harvest,” Fili said distractedly. Harvest was Fili’s favorite time of year, and with All Hallows Eve on its way, the boys were going to be up to something especially devilish.

 

“We should do something special.” Kili waggled his eyebrows at his brother, smacking on a piece of raw potato and twirling the spatula like a drumstick.

 

“Down, Fido.” Fili chided but gave his brother a kiss on the lips in passing.

 

“Ancient paganistic rituals will get you excommunicated or put away in this toun.” Thorin added, putting down the now warm spoons. “Just becareful.”

 

“When aren’t we?” Kili said devilishly, paying attention to the hash.

 

“When we’re horny,”

 

“Which is all the time,” Thorin added with a chuckle. He wasn’t quite feeling up to today. But he knew that if he didn’t get close to Professor Baggins soon he would be bedridden within the day. And he really didn’t want that.

 

“We should have our own hazard sign.” Kili said as he plated up their food and joined his family to breakfast. Fili brought out the orange juice and coffee while Thorin reached to his nephews hands and they bowed their heads saying an ancient prayer for health and happiness and productivity as they had every day for the past few hundred millennia.

 

 

Hell. It was absolute Hell to be this close to children without the proper level of enthusiasm needed to stay afloat. It wasn’t that Thorin was particularly grumpy or curt with his pupils, but there was an air to him that spoke even volumes to his students. As Thorin took roll call for first period a student raised his hand.

 

“Are you alright, sir?” The thirteen year old asked, bouncing his foot.

 

“Yes, just had a long night is all.” Thorin put down the ledger for attendance and dragged out the monstrosity of jumbled words someone called a novel and was ever so happy he’d done extra reading yesterday.

 

“Sleep by yourself last night then?” A student chuckled.

 

“That’s rude and inappropriate talk. I don’t want to hear anything of that sort.” Thorin pointed a finger to no one in particular. He was a little more aggravated than he thought, a tight knot of tension was settling at the base of his head. “What I do in my time should not be the concern of yours.

 

“Now, when we left off dear ol’ Eddy was…”

 

 

Lunchtime couldn’t have come fast enough. Thorin took his cooler to the teachers canteen and sought out Professor Baggins. But the man wasn’t anywhere to be found. Thinking quickly he headed for the library, he’d remembered hearing the students coming from Bilbo’s class complaining about essays this early in term. Thorin looked up and down the short shelves of books before finding Bilbo in a rather secluded area. Counting his blessings he approached the surly Professor.

 

“Afternoon,” Thorin offered. Bilbo jumped and let out a squeak of surprise before covering his mouth and looking around. The glare he gave Thorin was entertaining to the older man.

 

“Don’t do that. You gave me a fright.” Bilbo snapped the book shut he was reading and put it on the study desk. “What can I do for you, Professor?”

 

“It’s lunch time.” Thorin smiled but without his usual level of charm and cheer.

 

“I’ve noticed.” Bilbo looked to Thorin’s cooler of undoubtedly salad and pie. “I ate during my free period. I’m catching up on my own syllabus.” Thorin looked dejected and Bilbo thought it important that he noticed. “If you’d like, you can join me. I’ve got no problem as long as you’re quiet.”

 

“My dear Professor, I’d thought you’d never ask.” Thorin made a show of sitting down and digging out his meal. And it was romaine with some sort of yogurt dressing and roasted chicken skewers.

 

“How is it you have time for such extravagant lunches?” Bilbo pointed to the chicken skewer in particular.

 

“Extravagant?” Thorin chuckled even if he sounded tired. “Both of my nephews are cooks, Kili is training to be a chef and getting really, really, good at it. I prefer light lunches because of my morning bribes and heavy dinners, so the boys like to whip something up for me.”

 

Bilbo watched as Thorin took a bite of chicken and cut his salad to more manageable pieces. Bilbo couldn’t help but smile while the other man wasn’t looking. “Again, extravagant, I can barely manage packing leftovers from dinners I didn’t cook. You’re lucky to have family that loves cooking for you.”

 

Thorin smiled, the tightness in his face was more apparent and that concerned Bilbo.

 

“Are you alright?” Bilbo asked leaning in to touch Thorin’s forehead without permission, “You seem a bit, ah, ill.” Bilbo kept patting Thorin’s face as if he could bring a bit of warmth and health to Thorin with the simple touch.

 

Thorin’s heart became lighter as he felt energy return to him. Even though it was only slight, it was better than nothing. But Bilbo retracted his hand quicker than Thorin liked. “Rough night, couldn’t sleep.”

 

“That used to bed partners?” Bilbo asked while looking back to his book, not really wanting to hear an answer.

 

“Yes.” Thorin answered honestly. “I told you that I don’t like being alone.”

 

“You can’t think it’s my fault for not wanting to snog in what’s practically a stranger’s bed.” Bilbo snapped at the other man. “I do have morals.”

 

“I wouldn’t affront you or your morals. You asked and I supplied. I’m sorry you took it as if I were blaming you.” Thorin stopped his eating; he found he didn’t even have energy for that.

 

“Well, take care your words, sir.” Bilbo said primly before continuing reading.

 

“I am.” Thorin sounded as if he were a kicked puppy, or a chastised child who thought he was doing the right thing. It twisted Bilbo’s heart to hear the, he supposed, usually energetic man sound so… deflated.

 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Bilbo reached out a hand and grabbed Thorin’s forearm. “It can’t just be that I rejected your seduction attempts last night.” Bilbo said in hushed tones, looking around to ensure they weren’t being watched. “Look, I find you attractive, very, very attractive. But I just came out of a recent relationship and I don’t want to feel like I’m rushing myself. I just, want some time before we commit to anything.”

 

“We’re both adults, Bilbo,” Thorin tried then backtracked, “Not that I’m trying to pressure you, I’m sorry. I’m usually more eloquent.”

 

Bilbo sighed and rubbed Thorin’s arm, sure that some color was returning to the man. “If you really hate being alone that much how about a consolation, I’ll stay with you as long as we don’t do anything. We can sleep, or snog or whatever, just no sex yet, yes?” Thorin nodded his head solemnly. “Goodness, you make me want to kiss you better.”

 

“You just might, if you tried.” Thorin lifted an eyebrow in challenge and was surprised when Bilbo leaned over and kissed him on the lips. Their noses brushed before Bilbo dragged his bottom lip across Thorins, Bilbo bit his own lip before leaning forward and licked his way into Thorin’s already open mouth.

 

Thorin could feel energy returning to him as Bilbo licked the roof of his mouth, there was a hand clutching at the base of his head as if Bilbo was steering him, or keeping him, from kissing deeper. But Thorin stayed where he was, content with Bilbo giving him this. Bilbo’s teeth found Thorin’s tongue and bit and sucked it into his mouth. Thorin jumped with surprise and he would have usually been hard at this point but he concentrated on just absorbing the energy rather than turning around and using it even if he could seduce Bilbo into quiet library sex.

 

Bilbo pulled back, a string of saliva threading them together. Bilbo’s breath came in ragged gasps as he adjusted himself in his trousers. Thorin shifted in his seat, wanting to touch the smaller man. “What, no smart words?”

 

“Trying to watch what I say.” Thorin replied somewhat dreamily. He could feel a flush to his cheeks, a sign that there was life returning to him. Bilbo seemed to like the color, content in knowing the man wasn’t actually ill.

 

“Just, keep your hands off and my morals won’t be compromised. Please,” Bilbo begged, as if he were reminding himself not to get too grabby with the English Professor.

 

“I promise, Bilbo Baggins.” Thorin heard Bilbo gasp before biting his lip and sitting back down, hand sliding from the back of Thorin’s head down his neck, shoulder, and all along his arm to grip him around the wrist. Bilbo was convincing himself that the physical contact was doing Thorin good, as silly as that sounded.

 

But where Thorin had been drawn and pale looking, he was now full of color, his spirit seemed to rise and make Thorin’s blue eyes sparkle with that boyish mischief that Bilbo thought he didn’t like. Looking at the raven haired man now, he was convinced that the lack of his light attitude was unnatural to such a being. To such a man.

 

“I’m a fantastic cuddler, by the way.” Thorin grinned and resumed his eating. Bilbo kept his hand on Thorin’s wrist the whole time. And when the bell rung Bilbo tasted the coconut chocolate mousse on Thorin’s lips before walking back to his classroom.

 

“Do you have a venue for us tonight?” Thorin asked, walking the younger professor down the hall to his classroom, children milling about trying to get ready for their lunch period or next class. “I can’t wait to spend more time with you.”

 

“Well, if you’re as easy as this,” Bilbo indicated Thorin’s more than lax dress as he was wearing a loose pair of trousers that fit perfectly around the waist and a button up long sleeve with a band tee peeking out of the outer shirt. “Then, yes, you’ll love it. Bring a jumper though, we’ll be outside.”

 

“Is that all I’m getting?” Thorin smiled and cornered the smaller man next to his open door, Bilbo’s class’ attention on them. “Or can I torture you for information?”

 

“I seriously doubt you can do anything to me at this point that won’t get you fired, suspended, or become the ridicule of the school populace with your threats.” Even though he spoke with courage, Bilbo felt anything but, acutely aware of the kind of pull Thorin had over him. Bilbo tried not to squirm underneath Thorin’s intense gaze, most of the man’s energy returned since lunch.

 

“I don’t think you have the balls to dare me.” Thorin leaned closer, acting as if he were going to kiss Bilbo in front of such impressionable youth. Bilbo could hear the girls whispering excitedly and the boys gagging good naturedly (apparently everyone knew and didn’t care about Professor Oakenshield’s sexual preference). The bell rang suddenly and Thorin twitched, this was the second time during his entire career as an educator when he was late for his own class. And he had everything to blame the man before him.

 

“I think your class is waiting.” Bilbo hedged, trying to find an escape but not breaking eye contact as Thorin crowded more of his space. “Besides, you wouldn’t kiss me in front of them-“

 

And Thorin did kiss him. Not quick enough for it to be chaste and not long enough to be filled with emotion. It was a kiss to prove Bilbo to never dare him with exhibitionism again. When Thorin pulled back he was grinning like a Cheshire, hands thankfully to himself and not touching Bilbo anywhere on his body. Bilbo didn’t know if he should be upset or happy about that.

 

Professor Oakenshield wiped his lips as if there was saliva on them and winked at Bilbo before retreating. “Eight o’clock, Professor,”

 

Bilbo’s class had the mind to not react when he entered the classroom. Instead Thorin heard the door slam shut and twitched with quiet laughter. And if his own students wondered why he was sitting on the line of tables where PC’s sat (pushed out of his way of course) leaning up against the wall smiling like a loon, they didn’t comment. They didn’t know that Thorin sat there grading speeches while feeling the vibrations of Bilbo’s voice through the brick wall separating them. This was the most excited he’s ever felt.

 

 

“Seriously, though, you kissed him in front of his students?” Kili asked incredulously, his scarf tied cautiously around his throat to hide his brother’s more than enthusiastic professions of love. Kili pulled apart small pieces of bread that he’d gotten from the kitchen pantry and fed the ducks around them, seagulls whining about not being fed and attacking the smaller ducks in the water for food. Greedy little shits, Thorin was going to feed those things jalapeno bread with Tobasco sauce next time he came to the park.

 

Thorin had met Kili at the park that was just between their flats after work. Kili had been there smoking when Thorin plopped himself down with the biggest smile Kili had seen in a while. Thorin was usually happiest with the new partner the first week. Poor thing.

 

“Yes, he dared me,” Thorin looked across the park and up towards the hospital where Kili and Fili worked.

 

“His loss or…”

 

“Gain I hope. He didn’t sound too angry when he slammed the door.” Thorin almost giggled.

 

“And I hope you don’t piss him off too much. You don’t have anyone else lined up in Airdrie. You’d have to go all the way into Glasgow to find someone.” Kili threw the whole loaf and dusted off his hands of crumbs.

 

Thorin agreed in a hum. He looked down at his hands and chewed on his next thought. There was a reason why he didn’t like being alone, and the lack of energy was it. Though there had been a time, a century or so ago, when he’d last allowed himself to drift into the coma-like stasis they called the Sleep. Life at that point had been too painful for him to go on, his lover, a beautiful heiress of the nuveux riche had been hit by a trolly. That was the most recent time Thorin had allowed himself to get that close to anyone. And he could feel that he was close to another such encounter.

 

“Perhaps I should go to Glasgow.” Thorin sighed heavily. “Or move early, I’m not sure. Getting close to this one may be dangerous.”

 

“They all make you feel alive, Thorin. And Fili and I have to remind you of that every time. The human’s give you the energy you need to stay Awake. And it’s not a viable option for you anymore to join a military like it was in the old days.” Kili leaned back and allowed himself to be one-armed embraced by his uncle. He enjoyed these close moments with the man. “Just give it some time for the high to wear off. Then you’ll be back to yourself.”

 

“I’m worried about this one.” Thorin tightened his hold on Kili and sighed heavily. “He’s different. I’ve never felt this way about a human before.”

 

Kili sat up and looked into his uncles eyes measuring him. This was the first time he’d ever heard Thorin speak this way. Even though there was that one Mongolian soldier before Genghis Khan’s time; that was the worst Sleep that Thorin ever had. 

 

“Maybe we should leave.” Kili snuggled into Thorin’s embrace again, an elderly couple given them the evil eye. Kili sorely wanted to show them what a real Evil Eye looked like, but he refrained, Fili hated him practicing that type of magic.

 

“It’ll be fine,” Thorin laughed, “He’s tough and grouchy, but I don’t think he’s the committed type. It’s hard to tell with some of these human’s becoming desensitized to modernism. They don’t have the drive to find a suitable partner that would best compliment them. Instead they worry about income, a person’s looks, or what they drive.”

 

“Then again they’ve always been like that. The standards have just changed, romanticism has become a past time or come on line.” Kili sat up and stretched out the kinks in his back. “You should have heard this guy last night in Owen’s. He was complimenting how the color of my eyes makes me look mysterious.” Kili laughed before standing and pulling his uncle up. The man was already dressed for his date so all he had to do was hop on his bike and follow Bilbo’s directions when he was given the message. “Bloke said the same thing to Fili as soon as I wasn’t paying attention. Made me laugh.”

 

Thorin walked alongside Kili, watching leaves fall tenderly from trees and gather on the ground. How many times has he seen a fall? How many times has he tried to count the season’s passing him before he tired of the very thought of time or trees? Today, though, he paid attention to how burnt the leaves look rather than how they naturally changed. It was going to be a dry winter.

 

“If I could only afford it,” Thorin began but stopped before he went down that most familiar path.

 

“But you can’t. You need a new partner every so often. If not because of the lack of attention then it’s because of Moving Day.” Kili brushed Thorin’s bangs out of his face, another couple passing by with a blanket covered pram. “Get as much energy as you can from him, uncle. New Guinea is too far away for you to last the whole flight.”

 

“There are always the passengers and the Mile High Club.” Thorin winked sadly.

 

They kissed before departing, Thorin’s old flip mobile chirping its reception of a new message as Kili walked away to meet his brother at the hospital before going home. The Professor tried to open the file but another message warned him of the large format not being recognized. He cursed his luck and dialed the sender’s number. This was the first time he’d had Bilbo’s number so he was hoping it was his instead of an old fling.

 

“Get lost already?” Was Bilbo’s chipper voice, he sounded unreasonably happy and Thorin couldn’t help but smile as he wished he was standing next to the man if only to see what he looked like. It didn’t matter that he wanted to syphon the energy that would be solely for him.

 

“Mobile won’t read the message. I’m assuming it’s a map with directions.” Thorin straddled his Ducati Monster 1200 and fiddled with the keys in his hand. Thorin listened to the aggravated sigh and a bidding of ‘cheers’ on the other end.

 

“It’s a screen shot. And you need a new phone.” There was a car door slamming and directions being given that Thorin couldn’t hear. The older man smiled, wanting to be let in on Bilbo’s everyday life already. It was a past time he rarely afforded himself.

 

“I suppose I do. I’ll have one of the boys get me one. They know all this technology hoopla.” Thorin stuck the keys in the ignition then took them back out and played with them again. He watched two school children cross the street with their parents, primary school uniforms bright and starchy.

 

“’Hoopla’,” Bilbo snorted then paused as if he were figuring out how to ask something. Thorin’s blood froze afraid of what the question might be, explaining his knowledge of different idioms was difficult enough and his curiosity would surely be piqued if he knew Thorin knew more than just idioms. “Do you have OCD by the way, you’re always counting and measuring.”

 

“I’m-not sure.” Thorin replied stiffly. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to stay on this topic of conversation. “But this sounds like dinner talk to me. What is the location so I can meet you there?”

 

“No need, I see you now.” Bilbo said mysteriously.

 

Sure enough, Thorin looked up and saw a taxi pulling up with a familiar silhouette in the back. Thorin got off his motorcycle and took his helmet and pack with him. He waltzed up to the vehicle flabbergasted and when the door opened Bilbo looked slightly impish.

 

“Well, get to it, your letting out the heat.” Bilbo rubbed his gloved leather hands as proof. He was dressed in a comfy black wool coat with a blood red jumper underneath; his stone washed grey jeans faded to black at the bottom of the legs and accentuated the buckskin polished leather boots with a splash of red from his socks peeking out from trouser legs. Thorin’s mouth salivated as he wanted to get that man out of those clothes as quickly as possible. “Thorin,”

 

“Yes,” The man complied wanting to get in quickly. He would do anything Bilbo asked of him right now and he wouldn’t care what it was. Sitting down across from him he raked his eyes along the length of the lithe Professor. “You look-“

 

“If you say anything remotely flattering I should be disappointed.” Bilbo wanted to smile. “I look horrible by the way; I dress too much like the young.”

 

“And I dress like a middle aged man in the throes of middle aged crisis, you look amazing.” Thorin spat out before the other man could stop him. He about melted when he noticed Bilbo’s ears turn red.

 

“Thanks.” Was the quiet reply, but Bilbo didn’t look at him at all.

 

Thorin begged Bilbo to tell him where they were going on a Friday night. They were heading into downtown Glasgow, there was a twist of streets and too many stoplights for Thorin to be comfortable with. But Bilbo just kept staring out the window watching the scenery pass them by. Thorin took a deep inhale and smelled coconut and turmeric and his mouth salivated in the anticipation of good Thai food.

 

One more look across from him revealed Bilbo looking at the signs around him and writing something down in a moleskin notebook as if he were copying every letter on the street corner. Thorin watched as Bilbo's thin fingers flew across the pages, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Bilbo was a vision of a scholar, he dutifully sketched signs and symbols when he suddenly looked up as if he were a kid caught sneaking into the biscuit box. 

 

"What?" Bilbo asked gently, squirreling away the notebook so quickly Thorin half thought that he imagined the moleskin. 

 

"You," Thorin relaxed against the seat taking in Bilbo's tensing shoulders. "you look amazing like that." The cab stopped and Bilbo was trying to rush out of the cab to escape Thorin's scrutiny. "What were you sketching?"

 

"Nothing." Bilbo said and exited Thorin following closely behind. 

 

The History Professor was distracted so Thorin took the opportunity to pay for the fare before Bilbo dug out his wallet. But Bilbo was sketching again in the moleskin notebook, pencil etching away furiously. The pages were filled and turned four times before Thorin stepped up behind Bilbo and embraced him from behind. Chin on his shoulders Thorin followed Bilbo's pencil. 

 

"Have to do this. I've been slacking." Bilbo said almost distractedly and with a note of apology. 

 

"Take your time, I'm enjoying this." Thorin said evenly letting Bilbo know that he wasn't trying to tease. With all the attention at the notebook and not at Thorin he wasn't getting any energy anyways so he was able to enjoy the moment for what it was. "You're very talented."

 

"I've been drawing since I was a child. I've always loved it. When I learned to write that was all I did. Now it's more like an obsession." Bilbo bookmarked his place with the ribbon sewn into the book and turned in Thorin's embrace. The English Professor could feel the bit of charge amplifying in his body. "A bit like your counting and measuring."

 

"I do not do that," Thorin snorted. He hadn't realized he'd been doing that again. His nephews used to tease him because of it. 

 

"You do too," Bilbo tiptoed up and kissed Thorin on his stubbled cheek before breaking the embrace. "I hope you like spicy food."

 

And Thorin did, after a few glasses of water and three whole limes, but he enjoyed the flavors and the call to memory at his first bite of curry ever. Bilbo looked like he was going to laugh at Thorin choking down another Pad Thai noodle with cilantro and far too much spice.

 

"Stop that, you'll get ulcers." Bilbo tried to smack the noodle from Thorin's chopsticks with his own. Thorin laughed and whistled again at the tingling on his lips. 

 

"More tingly than hot." Thorin dropped the noodle and took another pull from his water. 

 

"You're quoting movies, great, of course you would." Bilbo was almost smiling. His lips twitched with amusement and whenever Bilbo couldn't stand not touching Thorin the immortal could tell just how entertained he really was. 

 

"I think it's more of a surprise that you know this particular movie." Thorin watched Bilbo drown the rest of his Moscatel. 

 

"Yes, well, I'm a fan of Jim Carrey, if you can believe it." Bilbo asked a passing waiter for another glass and turned to catch Thorin staring dreamily at him. "What?"

 

"You are the one who surprises me the most." Thorin reached for the sweet wine, "Dessert wine with your Panang Curry, Jim Carrey movies, and I suppose you sing in the shower."

 

"I do, but mostly just Elton John's songs." Bilbo winked quickly at Thorin before he could stop himself and Thorin desperately wanted to kiss the man. He felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest that made him feel uncomfortable. The feeling only increased when Bilbo reached across the table and threaded their hands together. "So what was up with earlier today? Were you ill?"

 

"I-don't know how to explain it." Thorin hesitated, trying to figure out what to say to this man. "I should warn you I'm quite emotional when I get tired. So, I, erm, didn't take it well when we parted ways and I ended up at my nephews' place to sleep."

 

"You must have been an only child." Bilbo concluded taking a gentle sip of his new glass of wine. 

 

"Eldest, actually." Thorin said before he could think better of it. "I had two younger siblings, a boy and a girl. Fili and Kili are my sisters' children. Their parents died when they were young and I took them in afterwards."

 

"Yes, that's right, not an only child." Bilbo pushed his soupy curry away and narrowed his attention to Thorin. "They say that the eldest child and only child are the best match for each other."

 

Thorin almost choked on his water, "You're an only child?"

 

"Yes, and what's with that look?" Bilbo asked.

 

"Well, you brought up... erm,"

 

"Does the prospect of an actual relationship frighten you?" Bilbo leaned forward across their small table. 

 

"Yes, it does." Thorin answered as honest as he's been with Bilbo. "I don't keep partners for long."

 

Bilbo nodded his head as if he agreed, but something in his eyes made Bilbo look empathetic. "I see."

 

"I'm not the purest, but I'll always be honest with you." Thorin felt that it was important to say it now. "I do love sex, and I do enjoy my partners, but I've never gotten serious. I've always ended it just before taking that next step."

 

"I'll change you of that." Bilbo said confidently, wine making him bold.

 

"I hope you don't."

 

"I hope you'll dare me."

 

Bilbo's sea green eyes locked with Thorin's evenly. When was the last time that someone called Thorin out like this? He couldn't remember, but the warning bells weren't tolling half as loudly as his libido was so Thorin may have been acting a bit too foolishly when he said the words "I dare you" in a mock seduction to Bilbo.

 

"Challenge accepted." Bilbo laid some notes down for the bill and stood up without any indication he was ready. Thorin belatedly realized that Bilbo had finished his glass of wine. That was almost two whole bottles he'd polished off and Bilbo didn't even look flushed. 

 

Thorin followed Bilbo out in to the street and tightened his leather jacket that wasn't as warm as it looked. It surprised him when Bilbo dug into Thorin's pocket to find his hand and grip it warmly. They walked a few blocks towards a shopping district where Bilbo found a fountain that wasn't working and sat them down at it.

 

"Have you ever just people watched?" Bilbo asked before looking around them with a gentle smile on his face. Thorin shook his head, if only Bilbo knew. 

 

Bilbo and Thorin spent the next hour watching all the people pass by, parents with prams, parents with screaming children, teens on boards, teens with hoodies, elderly folks out for a stroll, single elderly folks looking lost and alone. Yeah, Thorin had done his fair share of people watching and hadn't liked it. But it was something different with the way Bilbo was doing it. He wasn't watching them and realizing that they were as far removed from his life as he was to theirs. He was watching them and reading their faces, their emotions, and gleaning something of their personality or traits or habits all from the way they walked or held on to their shopping bag. 

 

Thorin certainly hadn't done that before. He'd seen too many people pass by him in the blink of an eye to care about what they did in their own time. Even his partners were fleeting. It was a lonely, lonely life for him made better by his nephews presence and the energy gathered from his partners. He supposed though, that this is where novels had it right. Eternity could drive a person to insanity like this.

 

But with the way that Bilbo was watching them, it was as if he were inviting himself into their lives and exposing the core of who they were. That person was borderline ADHD, that person was abused as a child by a woman, that man was recently divorced, and that kid was the happiest kid in the world despite his hearing loss. 

 

"You've taken Psychology." Thorin concluded as they marched up the steps to his flat. The narrow stairway didn't allow for them to walk side by side. 

 

"No, I just observe." Bilbo offered up his finished moleskin as Exhibit A. Thorin snorted and unlocked the door to his flat. 

 

It was practically clean now, with all of Max's things gone, the key still sitting on the counter and the breakfast dishes of the other day still sitting in the sink waiting to be washed. The faded and peeling wallpaper added a touch of homeliness to the room with the wooden floors and chipping plaster the recycled furniture was in good shape and complimented Thorin completely. Blocky, chocolate browns and other earthy tones, they sat low to the ground and stout, just like Thorin put himself off as, indestructible but elegant. Thorin had initially taken the flat because of the large windows, but the selling point was the size of the bedroom. It was bigger than Fili and Kili's. 

 

"This is it." Thorin placed his keys on a dish on the counter. "I could pull out the lilo if you want."

 

"No, I said I'd lay with you if you promised to be a gentleman." Bilbo shucked his jumper and toed off his boots. "I'll hold up my end if you hold up yours."

 

The Adam's apple in Thorin's throat jumped when he swallowed down his desire. He couldn't imagine lying next to such a handsome and compact human. But, for the sake of his being Awake, he'd behave. Even though his trousers were already straining at Bilbo's disrobing. 

 

"I'll be good." Thorin took off his own clothes, eyes never leaving Bilbo's body. The younger man had stripped down to his trousers an socks, both pairs of shirts (what color or style they were Thorin didn't remember) on the floor behind him as he slinked towards Thorin, pressing him to move down the hall backwards. Bilbo toyed with the top button of his jeans, brass button glinting in the street light filtering in through the gauzy windows. 

 

Thorin's light blue Henley was over his head and on the floor before his back hit the door to his bedroom. Bilbo kept advancing on him, staring straight into Thorin's eyes. Bilbo's body was indeed compact, but he wasn't chubby or all that fit. He was a perfect balance between a man who ate well and watched his figure and someone who wasn't into extreme sports. There were a few scars across his body, and Thorin knew enough of scars to recognize tempered glass cuts and shrapnel scars. There was a peppering of burnt skin, as if cinders of volcano ash rained on his right shoulder, and a left arm that couldn't straighten all the way. But every single inch of Bilbo turned Thorin on completely.

 

"I thought you were going to be a gentleman?" Bilbo said innocently, Thorin gasped as he realized what was happening. Bilbo was seducing him. "I don't like to sleep with trousers. My pants work just fine for me."

 

Brass button lost the war and Bilbo's jeans poured over slim hips and down just-thick-enough thighs. Bilbo's red pants were just hugging the man's bulge, a temptation of Babylonian proportions. Thorin nodded his head dumbly, mouth ajar and skin set ablaze with want. Thorin's jeans were too constricting. 

 

"Then you won't mind if I sleep like this." Bilbo quirked a wicked eyebrow and shimmied his way onto Thorin's bed. 

 

"Do I have to be good?" Thorin asked playing with the button to his jeans. 

 

"If you want this tomorrow, then yes." Bilbo was a criminal mastermind, not a History Professor. Thorin growled at his being denied yet again. "Or I could just go home and-"

 

Thorin tackled Bilbo to the bed embracing the smaller man and that was it, to Thorin's ever displeasure. "I'll be good, I swear, don't leave." 

 

Bilbo half wondered if he'd already broken Thorin. "Relax, Professor, I can borrow some clothes."

 

"And ruin my chances at getting a piece of that arse tomorrow as payment? Fuck no." Thorin nuzzled Bilbo's neck, desperately wanting to thrust against Bilbo's hips. 

 

"I don't mind getting off right now though. But no sex."

 

"You aim to kill." Thorin conceded before diving his hand down Bilbo's pants and latching his mouth to Bilbo's neck. The Professor gave out a half hearted scream in surprise, rough hands clutched at his hardened member and pulled at his nipples, the mouth no better than the appendages.

 

Bilbo rubbed up into Thorin's warm hand and reached for Thorin's own cock. He really did want to be fucked right now, but arguing with himself that this was safer took a lot of energy from him already. Bilbo kept wanting to distract himself from Thorin's more powerful and stimulating ministrations when Thorin picked up the smaller man and practically threw him across the bed with his hands. 

 

"I don't like it when your not paying attention to me." Thorin whined. Bilbo laughed out loud and gripped Thorin's wide shoulders and dug with more earnest into Thorin's pants. Bilbo could feel just how heavy he was, his cock was already leaking precome. Bilbo pulled back Thorin's foreskin with one hand and rubbed Thorin's cock head just under the glands. Thorin bucked into his grip and moaned against Bilbo's neck. 

 

It wasn't long, sadly enough, before Bilbo could feel a tight coiling heat in his gut as Thorin kept pulling at him and sucking light bruises that would be gone my morning on his neck. Bilbo jacked Thorin with more earnest gathering the precome and using it as slick. Thorin's hips jerked and bucked in time with Bilbo's own. Their moans and gasps grew louder and louder.

 

"Thorin, Thorin make me come." Bilbo begged. "Make me eat your cum, oh, gods I want it."

 

Thorin's grip tightened on Bilbo's member as Thorin's head ducked down to pull a bruising nipple into his mouth and bite and pull and suck at the abused thing causing Bilbo's back to arch and a scream of pain/pleasure to fill the room. Bilbo's hot cock twitch then released his seed over Thorin's hand and spilling onto his stomach. 

 

"I want to eat it." Bilbo breathed out before he could come down from his orgasm and tried to slide down the bed to line himself up with Thorin's cock. Thorin growled and moaned as he realized that Bilbo was telling the truth. Thorin kept jacking himself off as he lined up with Bilbo's open and panting mouth. All Thorin wanted to do was slam his cock down Bilbo's tight throat and make the younger man choke on his cum. He could tell now that Bilbo would be into that. But he didn't have time to contemplate that as Bilbo shoved a slicked finger past Thorin's tight muscles and poke expertly at his prostate. Thorin gave such a surprised shout that his come exploded from his prick and covered half of Bilbo's face before the smaller man greedily pulled the cock into his mouth and suckled like a newborn. Thorin saw stars and Bilbo milked his prostate and cock at the same time taking Thorin to the root and back off. Bilbo kept sucking past Thorin's orgasm as the man above him gave a whine of protest at the overstimulation. Bilbo let Thorin off with a pop of his swollen lips, saliva dripping profanely from the abused cock. 

 

Thorin collapsed onto the bed barely conscientious of Bilbo beneath him. He rolled onto his side, not wanting anything to touch his cock, and couldn't do anything as Bilbo invited himself into a half embrace. 

 

"Aren't you glad we didn't have sex?" Bilbo said cheekily. Thorin grunted in pain when his prick jumped at the smell of his own spunk on Bilbo's breath. 

 

"I don't think I've ever agreed so whole heartedly." Thorin grunted out. Where a human would have most likely blacked out from such an intense orgasm, Thorin was wired and ready to run across the country. It was difficult to pretend otherwise. Bilbo himself seemed more keyed up and excited as well. "It's always the quiet ones."

 

"Such a cliche remark." Bilbo dismissed and smiling for the first time dragging up the spare quilt at the end of the bed around them. 

 

"It wouldn't be cliche if sex kittens like you didn't make it so." Thorin forced himself to mumble. Humans would be tired, he kept reminding himself. 

 

"Shut up and go to sleep." Bilbo burrowed into the quilt and circlet of arms. 

 

"Aye," Thorin agreed and pretended to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hand jobs and orals don't count as sexy tiem in my book. :D

**Author's Note:**

> made some edits thanks to a considerate reader. Thanks again! Also, I know next to nothing about the Airdrie, U.K. area but I thought it would be fun to write about. I was initially going to do one in Glencoe as I've got distant relations that live there. It would have been funner because I've got resources to pull from, but, alas, I didn't find a non-descript secondary school for our boys to work at. 
> 
> If I make a mistake, please let me know. Thanks!
> 
> P.S.Big Owens was arbitrarily chosen. Please forgive me.... again. :)


End file.
